


my way or the highway

by escapismandsharpobjects



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Held at Gunpoint, Season/Series 01, Whumptober 2020, like early early s1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects
Summary: whumptober day 3 - prompt: held at gunpoint. neal has a bad encounter with a suspect.
Relationships: Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	my way or the highway

**Author's Note:**

> hi! what's poppin...idk if this fic is any good or not but i enjoyed writing it lmao. it's set super early season 1 like one of the first cases neal would have worked (i tried to like..show that in his thoughts and stuff but idk how well i did that). anyway i hope you enjoy!!

_ Click. _

Neal knows that sound. He  _ hates  _ that sound. It’s the one thing he’s never really known how to escape.

“Hands up, and turn around, nice and slow,” a voice commands. Neal recognizes it - it belongs to Chambers, the man he and Peter and the rest of the white collar division have been investigating for the past three weeks. 

He does what the voice says, not for a moment considering any other option, raising his shaking hands into the air and turning around very carefully. 

He immediately closes his eyes out of instinct - there’s a pistol pointing right between them, a finger on its trigger. 

“Hey, look at me,” Chambers snaps. 

Neal swallows and forces his eyes open, trying as hard as he can to not look at the gun still aimed between them. “What?” he asks, trying to sound like he’s not terrified out of his mind. Even to his own ears, though, he knows he hasn’t accomplished that goal - he sounds exactly how he feels.

“Scared, are we?” The gun is waved around in his field of vision, the finger never leaving the trigger. “Good.”

“What - what do you want?” Neal forces out the question, feels his voice tremble. 

“I  _ want  _ you and the rest of your little FBI friends to get the hell out of my business,” is the answer, delivered with a snarl that makes Neal take an involuntary step backwards.

Immediately, the gun is digging into his forehead.

“I wouldn’t do that again.”

Neal doesn’t answer - his throat feels like it’s closing and he doesn’t think he’s even capable of speaking at the moment, and he doesn't want to nod, lest if by ‘that,’ Chambers had meant moving at all. 

His silence seems to be a satisfactory reply, thankfully, because the gun is removed from his forehead, and pointed back between his eyes. Which isn’t a whole lot better, but at least he doesn’t have to  _ feel  _ it. Cold metal pressing into his skin. The circular indentation it would leave behind, if it wasn't used, or the mess of blood and brain it would leave behind, if it was. He suppresses a shudder at that thought, and tries to think of something else. 

But all he can think is  _ gun, gun, gun, _ which doesn’t help any. He tries to think about Peter, Jones, and Diana, and what they might be doing to try and catch this bastard, but then finds himself wondering if they’re trying to save him or not. He’s just a CI, after all. They can find another conman. 

He’s going to die, he decides. Nobody is going to come for him  _ (why would they?) _ and he isn’t going to be able to give the suspect what he wants, meaning that the only logical outcome of this encounter is him, lying dead on the floor, his head a bloody mess, dead, dead, dead…

He can’t breathe. His vision blurs, and he thinks he sees something moving into the room, but then it disappears, and he feels himself sway on his feet, feels the gun press back into his forehead, and then feels it leave, and then there are gunshots, two of them, and he thinks maybe he screams, and maybe someone says his name, and then everything goes black.

\--

Someone is tapping his face. And then they’re slapping him, and then he realizes they’re talking to him, and his eyes fly open and he sits up with a sharp gasp. The events that have just transpired flash back into his mind - the gun, the gunshots, and then nothing -  _ has he been shot? _

“You didn’t get shot, Caffrey, you’re fine.”

He looks around for the first time, and really realizes that he’s not alone. There’s a hand pressing into his chest, steadying him, and voices and noises surround him. He can only pick out the one that has just spoken to him - 

“Peter?”

“Yeah,” the agent replies, withdrawing his hand.

“I’m not - I didn’t get shot?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“We got here just in time is what happened. Chambers had a gun to your head when we came in, and then you started to collapse, and we made our move. He shot at us, we shot him.”

Neal doesn’t know which part of that to focus on first. “He’s dead? Wait, no, I collapsed?”

He...kind of remembers that, actually. Remembers the fear completely taking over his mind, remembers not being able to breathe, remembers his vision blurring, and then…

Peter’s hand returns to his chest. “Breathe,” he instructs, and Neal thinks back,  _ that’s what I’m trying to do, but it isn’t working. _

Except it is, and a few seconds later whatever had happened has passed, and he lets out a shaky exhale.

“You good?” Peter asks.

“Yeah,” Neal lies. 

“You sure about that?”

“I just don’t like guns, that’s all.”

Peter nods, like he gets it, which is impossible, but it’s a nice gesture anyway. Neal nods back, the two having come to some kind of unsaid understanding. 

“Thanks,” Neal says. He can’t bring himself to say the rest of it -  _ for saving my life, _ because he really doesn’t want to go back down the  _ I could have died _ road at the moment. 

A brief look of confusion crosses Peter’s face, but he shakes his head, smiles slightly, and stands, offering Neal a hand up. “Let’s get back to the office.”

He starts for the door, but Neal remains in place for a moment, trying not to look at the body across the room, currently covered by a sheet, with several people swarming around it, taking notes and pictures.

“Neal! You coming?”

Neal blinks, still trying to ignore the scene in front of him and comprehend the fact that Peter has just called him Neal, instead of Caffrey, at the same time.  _ It doesn’t mean anything, _ he reminds himself.  _ It doesn’t mean he cares. _ But it’s nice anyway.

“Coming!”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading this! i know the ending isn't good but such is life...please let me know your thoughts, if you want!


End file.
